(Completed)
Two assassins were set to kill a girl. No questions asked. Just kill her and claim their prize. That was their mission. Except one of them was not supposed to visit Volney, the land of the dead and the other fall in love with a girl and...
Hi! Sorry for the wait. Writing this chapter was quite difficult. Hope this chapter elicit the emotions I wanted it to show. I found the song in the media. Hope you like it as well. That being said, I hope you enjoy XD.
Mother
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Her heart thrashed against ribs painfully as she ran through Afreeen's quarters, in the early morning. The birds sang a joyful melody, which spoke volumes of melancholy in her ears.
She pushed the maids and the stationed soldiers. Why would they stand in her way?
In the first floor, the last room's door was wide open. Neron's room.
Healers hovered over the flaccid boy, but they did nothing. She stood at the entrance; her legs did not take another step inside.
Kale was right behind her and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He did not need to speak. A simple gesture was enough for her. For a person who rarely showed his feelings through actions, this was more than enough for her. Enough to show her that he trusted her.
Nishan followed them. Seeing her standing out, he stood two steps behind her.
"Where's Afreen?" she called out.
Her friend was nowhere to be seen. He had promised her that he would take care of her family. But where was he?
The maids and the healers gave her a startled expression. Nervously looking at each other, they whispered among themselves.
"I believe I asked you a question!" she shouted.
Healer Preselle flinched. "He has gone to Rhanves. He departed last night. Said some important thing came up."
She closed her eyes and swallowed her saliva. "How is he? Neron, I mean."
"We tried keeping him alive-" Preselle started.
Not allowing her to complete her sentence, Cahira rushed inside. The women gave way to her that was when she saw how her son was.
His black hair stuck to his face, his skin pale and white, losing all the signs of life. His lips, veins under his skin was black. The poison had begun to claim its prize.
Her lips trembled as she closed mouth with shaking hands.
"Do you know him?" Preselle asked timidly. But Cahira knew better, this was to feed her gossip.
"He is related to my friend." She glared at her as the healer looked down. "And he is a child. Every child born in my country is mine own. Any problem, Healer?"
"No," Preselle whispered.
"Better," she snarled. "Is there nothing you can do?"
"No," another healer in his early forties said. "It is Sezan. This amount of dose even an adult cannot survive. I cannot hold any hope for the boy."
